Molly Talon
by Rucastle'Madness
Summary: Milo Talon is half Sackett and half Talon, his wife Molly is neither, but no Sackett or Talon ever married beneath them. Molly and Milo are being hunted, Molly must find out why and stop them. She is a Talon now, and they are after her family.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction, please let me know if the story is interesting, and worth pursuing. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please enjoy my continuation of Milo Talon's story from his new wife's perspective._

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story they belong to Louis L'Amour. The character named Molly Talon is the same character as Molly Fletcher, they are married at the end of Milo Talon._

**Chapter One**

We were riding through some part of Colorado. After we were married in Pueblo, we began to just meander through Colorado. Mostly we were just enjoying the countryside. We share a love of the wilderness that few people understand. Milo and I both like the quiet, though we share unspoken words and smiles often enough. We were headed to the MT, known far and wide as the Empty. It was named for Em Talon, Milo's mother. Her only regret in life was that she was just shy of six feet. She was a fearsome woman who made men tremble in their boots. She had been left alone on the ranch, and Jake Flanner had tried to move in on her range. She held out on her own for weeks. She was born a Sackett, and for anyone who lived in the west, that meant a lot.

Truth be told, I was nervous. What if I don't measure up to Em's standards? What if I am too ordinary to be Milo's wife? Where Milo is big, muscular and dark featured. I am small and soft around the edges, with light brown hair that blazes auburn in the sunlight. Where Milo has ridden the Outlaw Trail, though he is not an outlaw, he stands up for what he believes is right. I came to the west running. Milo is at home in the outdoors, I love it but I have not lived it like he has. In the last month of our marriage, Milo has taught me to ride astride, shoot and read some signs, I may not be a tenderfoot anymore, but I am still not as good as I would like to be.

My husband claims he is a simple man with simple tastes. He may have simple tastes, but a simple man he is not. But he is a good man, the man I love. Why Milo chose me I will never be certain, he is certainly handsome in his own right and he could have had any number of beautiful women. But I believe it comes down to our adventuresome spirits.

Our comfortable silence remained unbroken, the sound of our horses echoed softly in the canyon in a rhythmic and soothing sound. I was riding my favorite mount, Dusty. He was a beautiful buckskin, I loved his coloring. His tan hide was set off by his chocolate colored nose, mane and tail. He even had chocolate colored socks. But what I loved most about Dusty was his speed. I shifted atop him and he threw his head up, in response. I was still learning to ride astride and after a long day of riding I was saddle sore. Riding side-saddle as I was used to was too restrictive, as were long skirts and dresses. I now wore rolled up denim jeans and a green top, but I didn't look like a boy at all.

The evening was getting late and it was about time we made camp. Suddenly Milo reigned in and stopped, we had made it to a small spring without my noticing. It was surrounded by twisted mesquite and green grass. He studied me carefully for a moment. As tired and as sweaty and dust covered as I was, his lingering gaze made me blush, I smiled. He hopped off his beautiful black dun, and helped me down. The horses didn't wait for us, they went to the spring and drank deeply. We followed close behind. After we had quenched our thirst, I set about building a fire for coffee and dinner, as I was unsaddling Dusty, Milo caught my attention.

"I am going to see what I can find for dinner."

I nodded, that meant that we were in dangerous country, and he wanted to know if we were off the beaten path. If he did get any meat, I would be surprised. I got the coffee on, but something on the ridgeline caught my attention. There had been something up there moving. If it had been Milo, he wouldn't be sneaking around. I pulled my colt out and snuck up to see who was prowling around. After I had ridge-backed my way to the top of the line, I examined the ground in the fading light. The heel prints I found ruled out Indians. But whoever was there was gone, and I did not have the tracking skills necessary to follow. I still didn't like being spied on, and hoped that they were just curious about the fire. I made my way back down to camp, carefully because the canyon had a lot of loose shale. I stopped for a moment to look up at the appearing stars. I leaned my head back, and suddenly with a roar of a rifle, I was rolling down the side of the canyon. Somewhere before I stopped, I must have passed out because everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Thank You to those who are still reading at this point. I hope you enjoy chapter two. Please Review._

**Chapter Two**

When I came to, it was dark. I had no idea how long I had been unconscious. Everything ached. I raised my hand to my forehead and it came away sticky with blood. I had been fortunate. If I hadn't stopped to look at the stars, that bullet would have let air through my head. And then I remembered, a bullet means there is a gun, and a gun means there is a shooter. Who had just tried to kill me? Anne? It didn't matter at this point, I would find out who later, and deal with them. But first I had to live.

I felt around carefully to make little noise, I was lucky again; I found my colt lying next to me. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I found that I hadn't made it all the way down the side of the canyon. I was about a third of the way up and I could still see the flicker of the fire through the mesquites. Dusty was still grazing lazily. Where was Milo? I carefully rolled onto my side, all the while checking to see how bad my injuries were, mostly cuts and bruises, with the exception of my forehead I was in relatively good shape. I needed a plan.

Usually when things got rough, Milo handled it. But this time Milo wasn't here. _If you have to be violent, do it quick, do it hard, and make it work the first time*. _Milo's advice worked the last time I'd had to use it. But in the end Milo had come back and rescued me. What if he couldn't do the same again? I squashed the fear as it rose.

I got to my feet, but I stayed low, no need to advertise my whereabouts. The shale in the canyon liked to trickle and fall when it was stepped on, so to make as little noise as possible, I moved as slow as I possibly could. To my left was a boulder that would provide decent enough cover until I decided what to do. I was a decent shot with my colt, Milo had been teaching me. I was not fast, nor was I guaranteed to be accurate when pressured. I was good with a knife though. I felt in my boot and the knife was still there and it comforted me some. But doubts still remained, would I be good enough in the dark?

My head was still bleeding badly and I needed to stop the blood. Blood left trails. I undid the bandana from around my neck, it was not clean, and it was not completely dry, but it would have to do. I ran my fingers gently along my forehead. The gash angled downward from my hairline to the middle of my forehead. It was deep, deep enough I had a flap of skin hanging off. I would need stitches soon. I tied the bandana tightly around my head trying to ignore the pounding in my head.

A shot rang out. _Milo!_ It was quickly followed by another shot. I hunkered down behind the boulder. The gunshots echoed through the canyon and I couldn't locate the source. I glanced down to the camp, Dusty was still there, completely unfazed by the gunfire. The coffee had to be burnt by now, although overheated coffee was the least of my worries. How many men were there? One? Five? My head already hurt, and there were too many unanswered questions. The night air was cool, but I was hurt, hungry, harried, and worried. All of these things added up to one thing; I was angry.

Whoever had shot me, had to have arrived here somehow, most likely on horseback. If they had shot Milo, I gritted my teeth against the thought, then they would still need horses. They would never catch the black dun; he hated strangers. Dusty was still here, which left the horse or horses they had come on. They would have left them where there was water. Unless they had watered them before we got here. Then they would be tied up out of sight. I thought back carefully. While I was examining the tracks of the top of the ridge I had briefly noticed that the other side sloped down gently meeting another part of the canyon with a slight overhang. I'd bet anything, that if the overhang continued that's where they would be.

I took a chance, but I couldn't let them get to Dusty. I whistled. Dusty's ears pricked at the sound, he raised his head. I whistled again, only this time it was three short whistles. Dusty began to make his way to me. I taught him this little trick with sugar cubes, Milo had teased me about it, but Dusty had learned all the same. As saddle-sore as I was, I was not eager to climb back on and ride some more. The worst part was, I was going to have to ride bareback. I thought about Milo and I climbed on Dusty without hesitation. Now I wasn't keen on being out in the open like that, but in my current condition I couldn't have made it back up on my own.

Dusty and I made it to the rim without incident, but we didn't linger there. Only tenderfeet ride on the rim where you can be seen for miles, and although I was from the city, my marriage to Milo had educated me in the ways of the west. I angled toward the overhang and followed it down. Sure enough, there were the horses. The two horses nickered softly in the darkness. I wasted no time in falling off my horse. I had intended to slip off gracefully and quietly, but the best of intentions often fall short. As I lay there sprawled on the ground, the humor in the situation found me, and I had to smile. I had been shot at, I was knocked silly and bleeding, saddle-sore, my coffee was burnt and I had just fallen off my horse.

Standing up was kind of an event, but I managed. Whoever the horses belonged to had left them saddled and ready to ride. This was looking more and more like a hunting party, but why were they hunting us? I grabbed the reins and led the horses away. They weren't getting away that easy.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Here is the third chapter I reworked some of the details, I hope they are to your liking._

**Chapter Three**

I was driven by my anger. I was no gunfighter, and I was separated from the man that swore to protect me. I knew enough to know that if I stopped they would eventually catch up to me, and I would be finished. I crawled back up on Dusty and just gave him his head. I had no idea how to cover my tracks, that was an art, and I was no artist. So we kept on, Dusty was in no mood to run, and I couldn't have held on if he was. We plodded around the outside of that canyon, until we had circled around to the mouth. There I hesitated a bit, I wasn't sure if going back in was a good idea, or not. But I had to find Milo, if he was hurt he would need help, and I'd be damned if I was going to leave him. Gunmen or no, I was going in after my husband.

If I remembered correctly, to the left of the mouth was a pile of rocks that must have slid down the side at one time or another, but right behind them was a tree. That was where I left those horses. If I was going in after Milo, I was going in light, but I wasn't going in bareback. I unsaddled one of the horses and put the saddle on Dusty. I had a little trouble because I couldn't lift my left arm all the way up, my little tumble down the hill had bruised my shoulder and back. But once again my stubbornness kept me from giving up, I got Dusty saddled and got on.

My forehead was bleeding again and the blood kept running into my eyes. I couldn't see much in the dark, and I would be an easy target, but I went in anyway. Because we had come this way before Dusty knew where he was going and we made good time. When Dusty and I came into view of the fire, I took a chance and made for camp. The first thing I did was knocked the coffee pot into the fire, and then doused it the rest of the way with dirt. I grabbed my saddlebags because there was medicine in them, I left my saddle behind; there was no time to waste. I mounted Dusty for the umpteenth time that night, and began the search for my husband.

I rode very carefully from that point on, I wasn't sure where Milo had gone, and I wasn't sure about the gunmen either. As I made my way deeper into the canyon I saw that it opened up more and then curved to the right. Right before the curve there was a gentle slope up to the rim. That would have been the trail they took after they watered their horses to get to the rim and overhang. But right past that point at the very first bend in the curve, I came across a body. It was too small to be Milo, but I eased of Dusty to see what I could find. I found a rifle lying on the ground next to the body. Then I spotted the black dun, he was on ahead a ways up the hill to the left. I carefully picked my way up the side of the hill, avoiding the prickly pear and other unpleasant plants, leading Dusty behind me. The dun recognized me and allowed me to grab his reins.

Higher up the hill, I heard a soft noise. I was on my guard at once. I crouched low, and let horses go; they'd be easy enough to catch later. Whatever had made that noise must not have heard me coming up the hill to it, cause it kept on making noise. I came upon a medium sized boulder, and the noise stopped. I had my colt pulled and called out only just loud enough.

"All right, you come out with your hands up and empty, or I'll start shooting." I was angry, and know whoever it was knew it.

"Molly?" The voice was laced with pain and surprise, but I knew it just the same. I stepped around to find my husband; he was leaning against the boulder, bleeding from his shoulder. He had his six-shooter out, ready to fight to the last.

"Milo!" I knelt down next to him to see how bad his shoulder wound was. I must have looked a sight because he was kind of surprised when he saw my face. Then he looked as mad as I felt.

"They shot at you! I am going to . ."

"We'll deal with them later." I cut him off. "I found their horses and moved them. There were two, so you got one, which means that there is still one gunman out there. We have got to move, are you hurt anywhere else?" He got a hold of himself and answered me.

"I heard a shot and that put me on my guard, That other one shot me from somewhere on the ridge, if I hadn't a been behind his partner and clearing leather at the same time he would have sent me to boot hill. Instead he got me in the shoulder, and that other one turned around and I fired at him, but he got my left leg on the way down." I leaned down and examined his leg, he'd already cleaned it up pretty good so I left it alone. His shoulder was a clean shot all the way through, but it was bleeding pretty good. I ripped the bottom of my shirt all the way around. I then tore it in half, and balled up the two pieces. I stoppered the wound on both sides and then used his belt to hold them in place. It wasn't the best doctoring ever, but we were in a tight spot.

"Milo, I don't like it, but we need to make for the MT. We need help." Milo looked at me hard for a bit, the idea of running away, galled us both, but neither of us was stupid. He nodded. I helped Milo up, and we made our way with him leaning on me heavily. The horses hadn't moved and I felt a surge of gratefulness for good horses. I collected the horses I had found. We would leave whoever was left alive alone and on foot. As we rode out of the canyon, I prayed.


	4. Chapter 4

_I am so sorry for the delay. The only excuse I can offer is life. Please enjoy, I am almost finished with the next segment. Thank you for your support_

_**Chapter Four**_

With the fresh horses we made good time. We stopped only long enough to re-bandage everything. Good thing I thought to grab my saddlebags, not only did they carry medicine, but they also carried a small mirror that Milo used for shaving. Milo always likes to look his best. I used that mirror to stitch up my forehead. Milo wasn't in any shape to do it, neither was I for that matter, I had a good-sized concussion and my shoulder and back were turning lovely colors under my shirt. Even with the small stitches I used I would still have a nasty scar. Milo had lost too much blood. He was pale and drawn and I was very worried. I know that he had recovered from worse; he had the scars to prove it. But I still didn't like it. It felt like we were being hunted. I lost any trace of weariness; it was time to move on.

The rest of our journey was a complete blur of pain and worry. I had mixed feelings as the big house came into view. It was magnificent. Tall and impregnable it looked as though it had been formed there when the mountains were. There was no denying its stoic beauty. My secret fear found me again, soon I was to meet Milo's mother.

There was no one in sight, and we weren't greeted until we made it to the front porch. And then almost out of nowhere a pregnant woman with hair of spun gold and honey colored eyes appeared.

"Lord a'mercy! Milo!" she hurried over to us her eyes concerned and questioning. She didn't ask though, and for that I was grateful. "Follow me." We followed her into the house and down a hallway to a room with a good sized bed and a window that let in lots of light. "I will get some fresh bandages and some hot water." My eyes filled with tears at her understanding. I set about getting Milo settled. First I pulled off his boots and checked his leg wound, it had reopened several times as we rode but it was doing fine now. I pulled my knife and cut off his tattered shirt, now that we weren't out in the sun he didn't need it anymore. His shoulder had started bleeding again and the pieces of my shirt were soaked through. Tears filled my eyes, and this time I was too tired to hold them back. They coursed silently down my cheeks as I worked on my husband. He was running a fever. She came back with several towels, some hot water and some whiskey. I used it to clean the wound as best I could but I was beginning to get stiff. She took over and I thanked her. I moved aside and I noticed that there was a mirror hanging on the wall. I grimaced at my reflection. I was all in. I was covered in blood. It was dried and caked onto my face and clothes, and my hair was matted down with it. I had dark circles under my eyes from worry and strain. I began to unbutton my shirt wanting to be rid of the smell of blood. I used some of the hot water to loosen the dried clumps of blood in my hair pulling angrily at the strands that would not cooperate. Silently the lovely pregnant woman slipped a bar of soap into my hands. The tears came harder now, faster. She silently helped me to get the blood off my face and shoulders and hair. She helped me slip into a nightgown of soft cotton and she held me gently as I cried myself to sleep.

I slept hard. I awoke suddenly and I knew it was dark from a glance at the window and a glance at Milo told me he was still breathing. I didn't move, but listened quietly.

"It must have been some kind of ambush. Milo's too good to be beaten in a fair fight." A man's voice I didn't recognized carried softly down the hall. "What about the woman with him?"

"She wouldn't leave his side." The woman's soft voice reached my ears; she had already earned my friendship. Her soft voiced turned harder, "You should see her! Her whole back is black and blue, and she has a wicked gash on her forehead." Her indignant voice turned softer. "Barney, I think she stitched up her head herself. Milo was in no shape to do it, with his shoulder." There was a long pause, and then there was a voice of a different woman.

"Good for her. She knew what had to be done and then did it. I'm just glad they made it here, no tellin' how far they rode. We'll get the whole story soon enough," and then her voice turned to steel. "Then there'll be hell to pay."

Hard as I fought it, sleep claimed me again.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you to those who have been so kind to show an interest in this story. I apologize that I have been so slow in getting it posted. But I guarantee that I will finish it eventually! It is too dear to my heart not to. Please Read and Review. _

_**Chapter Five**_

When I awoke again it was dawn and everything hurt. It took me a moment to remember where I was. I slowly rolled over and my heart jumped into my throat when I saw Milo. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him, not yet. Not when we had just started our life together. He was still sleeping, and I gently checked his shoulder wound. I gave silent thanks to God; it had not reopened during the night and his fever was gone. I resisted the urge to run my hand over the rest of his chest, he needed his rest.

Snatches of the conversation I had overheard from last night played through my head. "_What about the woman with him?"_ They hadn't received the telegram. _"No tellin' how far they rode." _They didn't know we had been married in Pueblo and have been in Colorado for the past month and half. Had someone intercepted the telegram on purpose? Was I imagining things? I thought about these things as I slowly slid out of bed. I had to straighten up slowly, my head started pounding.

I cast about for my bags. I only truly had one option since my jeans and shirt were tattered and blood soaked. I had brought one calico dress, in my favorite shade of lavender. All of my other clothes were still with German Shaffer; we planned on having him send them here after we arrived. I no longer owned one-third of Maggie's, it now belonged to German. I sold out the day they ran Milo out of town. I would have just let German have it, but he insisted on paying me. I agreed on the condition that he would pay fifty dollars (half the price I paid him), and send my bags to me whenever we sent for them. That seemed so long ago. It took me longer than usual to dress, my injuries were hindering my progress, but I eventually succeeded and made my way to the kitchen.

There at the stove was Em Talon. She had her back to me, so I took a moment to study her from behind. She towered over the stove; in fact she towered over the whole kitchen. She was rail thin and looked as hard as iron. My headache got worse.

"Good Morning." I said, as I sat down at the table.

"Morning." She turned from the stove and placed a cup in front of me she poured hot water in it then covered it with a plate. "It's willow bark tea with some cinnamon in it. It'll help with that head ache of yourn'. Give it a minute to steep and cool and then you can drink it." I nodded and said thanks. She turned back to the stove and started to fry up some bacon. The smell was homey and comforting. After a while I tried some of the tea, it had been sweetened with honey and was good.

"Thank you for the tea, it's very good." Cinnamon is my favorite spice. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down.

"How is Milo?" Her question contained many questions, but it was also a way out, a way not to answer.

"His shoulder didn't reopen during the night, so it is on its way to truly healing. His leg is also still closed although I will need to re-bandage it again when he wakes up. His fever is gone and his color is much better. But he still needs rest." I shook my head. "He won't stay in bed though." At this statement Em Talon laughed softly.

"You won't ketch any Sackett or Talon in bed if they can help it."

That's right! Especially not if there is work to be done!" A tall handsome man walked in the room smiling. He was clean shaven and well groomed. He look liked Milo and yet he didn't, He was just a hair taller and narrower than Milo. He had the lean narrow look of Em, but boy he was handsome and his smile was just like Milo's. The thing he lacked was Milo's wind blown reckless look, the boyishness about his eyes.

"You must be Milo's brother Barnabus." His smile widened.

"At your service madame. I see Milo has told you all about us." I nodded.

"That's more than he's told us about you." Em's ironic voice dimmed Barnabus' smile a bit. I flushed, tired and sore as I was I had forgotten they didn't know my name.

"I am so sorry, I am Molly Fletcher . . . excuse me, Talon. I'm Milo's wife." Barnabus' eyebrows raised in what was honest shock. And I couldn't be certain but I thought I heard Em chuckle. "We were married last month." I had to smile; Barnabus must have thought his brother would never have married.

"Did you say Molly Fletcher?" A voice from the outside door drew my attention. There was a small man that could only be Al Fulbric.

"Yes, that is my maiden name, Why do you ask?" My head was feeling a little better but my gut was clenched, was Anne still looking for me? I thought of her cold blue eyes and I shivered. At my response to the question Em Talon said;

"Al you better come on in, I've got some breakfast here and the cows can wait. This seems like it should be discussed over some vittles." He nodded and came in the house. Barnabus sat down as well and Em served up the food quickly. I wasn't hungry anymore.

"Where did you hear Molly's name Al?" Barnabus asked softly.

"When I went to post some letters last week in the General Store there was a man in a suit asking if anyone had seen her. From the looks of him he was a Pinkerton." He looked apologetically at me. Barnabus took a deep breath and looked at me gently.

"Molly what do the Pinkertons want with you?" his voice was gentle but I was still trembling. I had hoped I had left all this behind me. I looked at him and said with dead honesty,

"I have no idea why the Pinkertons are involved. I thought all of this had been taken care of before Milo and I were married." I faced Em. "We sent a telegram the day we were married, we thought you knew." Em's frown deepened. "Well I'll start with the beginning, but I'm warning you it isn't a short story." After I had received the nods to continue, I did.

"Do you know who Nathan Albro is?" Barnabus's brow furrowed.

"You mean the Mining developer? Didn't he die? What does he have to do with you?" His face grew deeply concerned. I sighed a deep and long sigh.

"I knew Nathan Albro my entire life. You see my mother was his housekeeper. His wife Stacy left him for Newton Henry. After Stacy left and took Nancy with her, Uncle Nathan was left alone. He was lonely; I tried to help him not be so lonely. He was such a good man, but so misunderstood." I pushed back the grief of his death. "When he died, I'm still not convinced his death was an accident, everyone believed that Nancy was his heir. So Jefferson Henry, Newton Henry's father, hired Milo to find her. Jefferson Henry hated Nathan Albro and was jealous of everything he had. He wanted to control Nancy, and almost pulled it off too, since Stacy had married Newton." I paused and took a drink of tea. I was still trembling, but it got worse, I set down the cup before I spilled it. "But what nobody knew or remembered was that Nancy wasn't Nathan's daughter. Stacy had been married once before to Wade Hallett. What nobody else knew was that Nancy, or Anne as she is calling herself now, is cruel and self serving she wants what Uncle Nathan left to me for herself. She has already tried to kill me and she may still be looking." I prayed that wasn't the case.

"You mean to tell us that Nathan Albro left you _everything_?" Barnabus was incredulous.

"You sure have been dropped in a hornets' nest covered in honey haven't ya." Em looked at me with pity.

"Milo settled up with Jefferson Henry, Anne disappeared and Rolon Taylor was dealt with by the Shelby. It seemed like it was over. Milo got run out of town after John Topp came after him, he told me to meet him in Pueblo. We were married the next day." I looked around helplessly. "I've no idea why the Pinkertons are involved now, or why they are looking for me. I still have the will, Milo and I were going to straighten things out after we stopped here. I'm not certain how they even got my name." My shoulder and back began to throb.

"That's an incredible story." Al Fulbric looked amazed and worried.

"You just go on back to bed now, Molly. You are still injured and ya need yer rest. I'll bring you and Milo some food later on. Go on now." Her voice was full of understanding but it brooked no argument.

I followed her orders and went straight to bed. I checked on Milo and then went back to sleep. I had to get better before I could fix this.


	6. Chapter 6

_For this chapter I leaned heavily on information gleaned from __**Ride the Dark Trail**__. Even though Milo isn't the main character in that book, it gave me great insight into Em, and into the ranch. If you think I got any of the details wrong please let me know. . . accuracy is very important to me. _

**Chapter 6**

I woke up to his green eyes. They were examining the stitches in my forehead. Since I had done them they were as small as I could get them, but there would still be quite a scar. One side of his mouth was turned down into a frown. I could tell that for as long as he'd been awake, his mind had been working on the problem.

That's when I decided.

I was going to finish this.

I was going to take care of it, I was going to face it head on, and I was going to start by calling on the Pinkertons for some information.

"Well Molly it seems as though we are in a pickle." Milo's voice was deceptively lighthearted, as though he wasn't really interested in the fact that we had been shot at.

"I'm not Molly today Milo." I smiled at him as I carefully slid out of bed.

"Oh, really? Well who are you then?" One side of his mouth was cocked up in a goofy boyish smile that made my knees week.

"Today I am Sarah Jones and I have to purchase a few buttons at the mercantile."

"Well, I shall go with you!" I laughed out loud at his statement.

"No, you will not. I need to be by myself so I am not associated with the MT. Everyone in town knows you, especially since your last dramatic visit." I looked at him pointedly. "You will stay in bed." He put on his most innocent face. He had been beaten and he knew it. Everyone knew Milo was Em's son. And the last time he had been in town he had been involved in a gunfight to maintain ownership of the Empty.

"Whatever you say m'dear." He was at his most charming. I wasn't fooled, I would be lucky if he waited till I left the room to get up. He then went on talking about purchasing some horses in Texas. I grabbed my dress from off the rocking chair and began the process of dressing.

"Well, we should go to Texas sometime. I have a friend down there . . ." he cut off in the middle of the sentence and I dropped the camisole back down over my head and turned to face him. The playfulness was gone. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were cold. He had seen the bruises. "Molly, I will find who did this. And I will . . . . ." His voice had turned to steel. I went over and sat on the edge of the bed. I put my hand on his cheek.

"Milo, we will find them together. They didn't just pick a fight with you. We are partners now." Milo looked at me for a long time before slipping his good hand into mine.

"Partners," he said gently. A smile began to turn up the sides of his mouth. "I do believe I like that." I smiled wide and agreed with a kiss that made my injured head spin, probably more than was healthy.

x x x x x x x x x x

I rode all the way around Siwash to come in from the opposite side, so no one could trace me to the ranch. I had borrowed a bonnet so my forehead was covered, and my dress covered all my other injuries. It had been quite a debate at the house as to whether or not I would go alone. Barnabus, Milo, and Al all had wanted me to have an escort. But Em put her foot down, telling them that I was right, until we had all the information, I needed to be a drifter with no connections here. Since everyone at the ranch was known in town, I needed to go alone. Instead of riding into the middle of town unescorted, I would gather my information quietly. Em told me I needed to see Dolores Arribas; she would know if there was a Pinkerton in the small town of Siwash.

I carefully followed Em's directions and made my way to a small house on the edge of the town. In front of the house washing clothes was Dolores Arribas. The years had worn on her but they could not erase her beauty. Even bent over the hot wash, her graceful figure was enough to catch any man's eye and make any woman green with envy. She looked up from the wash just long enough to look me over, and at her nod I dismounted. I ignored my stiff body.

"Em sends her greetings." To any casual observer, my statement had no effect of Dolores. But I caught the slight surprise in her eyes at the mention of Em. She used her paddle to pull some sheets from the tub. I wasted no time, and grabbed one end while she had the other. Together we wrung the excess water from the sheets, and then hung them to dry.

"It is hot work, washing. Would you like to come in for some lemonade?" he accent was so faint, it was almost undetectable. I nodded and shot her a grateful look. I followed her into the small house and took in my surroundings. Everything was neatly arranged and surprisingly homey. "Please sit." She indicated a chair at the table and I eased into it as best as I could. I carefully removed my bonnet. If my forehead surprised her I could detect no trace. I was eager to question her, but something told me I should listen and not speak.

After she poured the lemonade she sat down opposite me at the table. "Thank you for the lemonade." It was cool and refreshing after a hot ride in the afternoon sun.

"You are the one the Pinkertons are looking for." It was not a question, but I nodded anyway. "It is good you did not ride through town. Mr. Smith is still here." She looked out the window. "I do not know why they are looking for you, but I do not think this man means you well. Be on your guard." She drank some lemonade. "Also there are other men in town; I have not seen them before. Two seem like fighting men, the other does not. I do not know the names."

"Thank you for the lemonade Ms. Arribas and the advice. I do not take it lightly." She looked me over and nodded once.

"Do not go back the same way you came, use the alley to the left and then follow it to the next street. Take this one out of town." I nodded and left as quietly as I had come.

On my way back to the Empty, I considered what I had learned about the new occupants of Siwash. I decided that I needed to gather some more information about these three men. I was especially curious about the man who didn't seem like a fighter.


	7. Chapter 7

_I hope you enjoy this chapter, I hope to post the rest of the story soon. Please review, suggestions are welcome._

**Chapter 7**

I sat in the chair in the bedroom watching Milo sleep. He was looking better after two days of rest, but he was still not up for the fight that was coming. I just kept turning the problem over and over in my head. What frustrated me was that I was so unsure of who the enemy was. The Pinkertons couldn't have anything against me because I had broken no laws. Although I had a sneaking suspicion that the Mr. Smith in Siwash was not a Pinkerton. After that mess in Beulah, I knew enough about hired guns to spot the signs, and the way that Dolores Arribas described Mr. Smith there was no doubt in my mind. Even if he turned out to mean me no harm, approaching him with extreme caution would help me to live longer. Anne still had yet to turn up and there was no hiding her motives she wanted me dead. She nearly succeeded last time she had tried; only a surprise attack from Milo had saved me from her clutches. Since Milo had ridden the Outlaw Trail he had collected his own enemies. I sighed, frustrated by the possibilities.

I tackled the problem from another angle, who were our allies outside of Siwash? There was German Shaffer the full owner of Maggie's Restaurant. I had no one back East who could be of any help at all. . .

"You certainly are looking grim Mrs. Talon." Milo's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "What are you thinking about?" I stared at him for a moment before I answered.

"I was thinking about our friends outside of Siwash." His perfect green eyes lit up and that goofy smile spread across his unshaven face, and I knew he had the answer.

x x x x x x

The vaquero rode into town at a leisurely pace set by long hours of riding in the saddle, but his eyes missed nothing about the small town that he entered. All the places one could hide, be ambushed at and take cover behind were absorbed by his intelligent brown eyes. He rode right past the livery and tied his horse in front of the saloon. He went in and immediately noticed the occupants and their positions in the room. The table in the left corner sat two men quietly eating and intently discussing something, their conversation paused at the vaquero's entrance. At the bar was a large muscled man whose scowl could peel paint. The vaquero walked up to the bar and ordered his meal, he had traveled a good distance very quickly and he was hungry. He would eat and then see to his horse. He pointed to a table in the back corner and then went and sat down. He took his time and examined the men at the table across the room. One was very short but well muscled and held himself carefully. The other man was tall and thin with quick eyes that darted around the room. The vaquero surmised he could be easily prodded.

"Here you are." The bartender set his food down on the table and the vaquero pulled out his money.

"_Gracias. _Where in town can I spend the night? It has been too long since I have slept in a proper bed." The vaquero said this loud enough for the entire room to hear. The big man at the bar turned to the vaquero and narrowed his eyes threateningly. The bartender hesitated slightly before he recommended a boarding house down the street. The two men at the table seemed undisturbed by his plans for the evening.

The vaquero ate his meal with relish, but he did not hurry. After a while the two men at the table finished their conversation and left. Mr. Smith was not drinking or talking, but he did not leave. He went and sat at the table next to the vaquero, but said nothing. A local came in and ordered a drink at the bar, still the vaquero waited, still Mr. Smith waited.

Boots could be heard on the porch of the saloon, the man paused at the door to beat some of the dust off his clothes with his hat. He was filthy and unshaven and there was a look in his eyes that made the bartender nervous. He ordered rye from the good bottle. He sat down at the table with the vaquero.

"It has been a while _amigo, _since I have seen you." The man nodded and then looked at Mr. Smith, taking his measure in a glance. He did not seem impressed.

"Not since Beulah. I figured it was time to pay my mother a visit." Milo sighed dramatically and then smiled charmingly. "How are you Pedro? Shelby been treating you well?" Pedro smiled.

"As well as one can expect. What about the _senorita _you were with?" At this question Milo's smile faded and he took a drink.

"Didn't work out like I'd hoped. . . ." he shrugged and Pedro nodded.

"Women are not like horses. Horses I understand." Milo smiled at Pedro and they sat in a comfortable silence. Mr. Smith made his move.

"I would like to speak to you Talon." Milo cocked his head and smiled charmingly at Mr. Smith.

"What can I do for you Mr. . . . ." Milo politely waited for him to respond. Mr. Smith hesistated and then said

"Smith. I want to ask you some questions about the woman you were seen with in Beulah. A Molly Fletcher, I believe." Milo's brow furrowed.

"What do you want to know about her? She is pert and pretty what else do ya need to know?"

"The Pinkertons are looking for her in connection to the murder of Nathan Albro." Milo whistled once long and hard.

"Murder? Molly? That seems mighty unlikely." Milo looked at Mr. Smith hard. "You don't look like any Pinkerton I've ever met." Mr. Smith grunted something unintelligible. "I see." Was all the reply that Milo gave.

"Where did you last leave Ms. Fletcher, Mr. Talon?" At this Milo laughed.

"Leave her! Ha! She left _me. _Took her horse and rode off while I was asleep. Took all the coffee with her too!" Milo shook his head and had another drink. "I don't know what's she doing or where she's at right now. But I'm here to see Em, so I better get cleaned up before she sees me." With that Milo stood up and left the saloon, he walked with the easy gait of a man who had no worries. Pedro looked at Mr. Smith and then left also.

Milo was limping when Pedro caught up to him down the street. "He doesn't know that we've been shot at. Either his employer doesn't want him to know there are other men on the payroll, or the shooter didn't make it out of that canyon." Milo's face was grim as he turned to look at Pedro. "Did you find anything there?"

Pedro glanced around before answering. "I found a few tracks, but no bodies." Milo shook his head.

"That means he made it out. Took the body too, or buried it." He sighed, "one more man we have to worry about." Pedro merely shrugged.

"Men can be killed. The _jefe_ is the one we need." Milo nodded.

"We will have to have another talk with Mr. Smith soon."

Pedro only smiled.


End file.
